


In The Den of Sinners

by Persephones_Hell



Category: Tombstone (1993)
Genre: Drama & Romance, F/M, Gun Violence, Historical, Old West, Western
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-13
Updated: 2018-03-12
Packaged: 2019-03-30 17:29:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13956519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Persephones_Hell/pseuds/Persephones_Hell
Summary: When a California acting troupe performs in Tombstone, John Henry Holliday finds himself enamored by the leading lady.





	1. Chapter 1

**San Francisco, May 1880**

The afternoon sun poured into the parlor of the Marcus family home, the beams gleaming against the cherry slats of the floor. Josephine shifted uncomfortably in the cane backed wheel chair, her one leg laying rigid across the rattan support.

Across from the distracted woman sat her close friend Emmeline Abbott, pouring all her nuances into the lead character of Lysistrata. The ancient Greek comedy was to be toured around the American west by the Markham Theatre Company, housed in the growing bay city.

Josephine was set to lead the production as the title character and Emma as Cleonice. However, Josie’s untimely fall during dance practice had firmly wrenched that plan. Emmeline assumed the lead role as a dutiful understudy.

Their mutual friend Dora would step in as Cleonice.

“Oh, Cleonice,” Emmeline delivered the lines more wooden than she preferred. “My heart is on fire; I blush for our sex. Men will have it we are tricky and sly.”

Josie missed her cue, still attempting to shift her leg and smooth her dressing gown. Emma sighed.

“Men will have it we are tricky and sly.”

Her second attempt was just as futile as the first.

“ _And sly.”_ Emma rolled her eyes when she caught Josie fidgeting. “If you keep fiddling with the bandages Doctor Hauser will have to reset it.”

Josie’s head snapped up. She grinned like a child who had been caught sneaking a slice of pie before supper. She straightened herself up in the wheelchair, and ran her fingers through the auburn ringlets and that rested on either shoulder.

“Over my dead body.”

Even in her bed clothes and hair a mess, she was still a vision. Something Emmeline always wanted for herself.

“Keep messing about and that bone could pierce through the skin. Gang green is very deadly.”

“Do you think my skin is made of parchment and stuffed with cotton?” Josie smirked, shaking her head playfully. “The Doctor said it was only a fracture.”

“Don’t you want to practice lines again?”

“For a play I’m not even performing in?”

“For my benefit.” Emmeline pleaded.

“You have the thing memorized perfectly. Now just concentrate on bringing Lysistrata to life.” Josie wound her fingers gracefully through the air, eyes fluttering shut. She was a performer, even off the stage.

Emmeline, on the other hand, was only a singer. She boasted a lovely voice backed by strong pipes, but she could never give such an intricate performance as her friend. Josephine opened her eyes brightly. Emma stared out the window, watching the carriages clod by and children play with their hoops and sticks.

“What’s wrong?”

Emma was pulled from her daze and turned towards her confidant. Josie was caught by the way her pale eyes shimmered in the sunlight.

“Hmm? Oh, it’s nothing.” The slender blonde avoided looking directly into those inquiring feline irises of Josie’s; she could see through a lie as easily as everyone else could see through a pane of glass.

“Emmeline Georgina Abbott, do you think I’m senseless?” Josie feigned anger, though the slight quirk in her lips gave away the façade.

She gingerly wheeled herself beside the plush chair that Emma sat in.

“Are you going to keep lying to my pretty little face or tell me what’s wrong?”

Josie lifted her hand, as the silk of her robe cascaded back. She snaked her alabaster fingers around Emma’s own.

The blonde looked up to meet Josephine’s gaze.

“You’ve always been the natural performer. I never have been.”

“Blasphemy. You’re a fantastic actress.”

“Maybe, but I’ve never been breathtaking like you. At least not to be a leading lady for an entire tour.”

Josephine wanted to tell Emmeline that was all nonsense, every bit of it. Instead, she tightened her grip around Emma’s slender wrists, urging her to stand.

“Kneel beside me.” Josie demanded.

“What an odd request.” Emma muttered, lifting her skirt slightly as she knelt down

“Lean your head forward, dear.” Emmeline nodded and complied. Josie’s long fingers removed the brass pins that held her golden curls in place. She plucked the pins one by one, before removing the ornate comb that lay nestled in the mass of hair like a crown jewel.

It had belonged to Emma’s mother who wore it every day of her life, even on her death bed.

Josie carefully turned Emmeline’s face back up as a mess of blonde hair fell down her back and over her shoulders. Licking a finger, she threaded it carefully through the curtain of bangs, mussing them up.

“You’re gorgeous, darling.” Flicking her eyes towards the mantle, Emmeline understood immediately. Standing, she pushed the wheelchair to the far side of the room. She stopped Josie several feet shy of the mantle before slowly approaching the mirror on top of it. She held the gait and pace of a frightened doe and half expected Josephine to goad her to quicken her step.

But the room remained silent except for the bustle from the street.

Emmeline lifted her head to gaze upon herself. Of course, she saw her reflection in a mirror before; but she never really looked. Now was different. Her eyes were as bright and clear waters, her hair was wild and golden as autumn leaves.

“Beautiful. I’m sure you’ll have many a conquest on the tour if you let your hair a little more often, smudge some kohl along your eyes.”

The two made their way back to the window.

“We’re only going to be in each town one, maybe two weeks tops.”

“You don’t have to get married, for Christ sakes.” Josie chuckled as Emma’s eyes became as wide as saucers.

“Josephine Marcus, you may be the most improper woman to ever exist.”

“Possibly. It’s more likely that I’m honest and enjoy living. Now, you wanted to practice lines, yes?”

“That was ages ago.”

“Well, let’s make up for lost time. I can’t have my understudy disgrace me.” Josie mused haughtily.

The two women rehearsed through the entire play until the words began to blend together and the risqué lines resulted in girlish fits of laughter.

 

~~~~~

 

The tour had come and gone faster than Emmeline had prepared for. Now she sat in a stifling stagecoach at the head of the caravan heading to Tombstone from Tucson. The boomtown wasn’t part of the tour initially, until Mrs. Markham had insisted they added it to their stops. The silver rush had spiked the population. It was nothing cosmopolitan, but the theatre they would be playing at was rumored to be quite wholesome, considering the reputation the town had garnered.

Emmeline had taken Josie’s advice and adopted a more feminine appearance, opposed to her normally refined and subdued nature. Her hair was pulled into a low bun of delicate ringlets, topped with a fashionable straw hat and silk flowers. Her gown was traditional, in light peach, gilded and boned with hints of gold. It lacked a bustle, for which she was grateful.

But she could care less about that now. The sweltering heat mixed with her decadent layers made the ride unbearable. Leaning her head back, Emma dipped her face out the window. The breeze was refreshing and stray morsels of sand tickled her nose.

“Feeling alright, Miss Emma?” Sebastian asked worriedly from the seat parallel. He was one of the most exuberant actors in the troupe, a pretty man with hair long enough to be considered scandalous. Though that was by far the least scandalous aspect about Seb by far that one realized soon after they were acquainted with his flamboyant charm and nature.

Everyone except Dora, it would seem, who sat so close to Sebastian that they probably had to share the limited amount of oxygen in the simmering stage.

“I’m quite well, Seb.” She leaned back, eyes heavy with fatigue. “I could just use a refreshing bath and a warm bed.”

“I second that motion.” Sebastian grinned wide, displaying a row of straight white teeth. “Not to mention someone to warm the bed.”

Emma raised an eyebrow.

“I haven’t seen you hanging off the arms of any suitors thus far into our extravaganza. No one catch your eye?”

There had been a few attractive men, but none kept her attention long enough for her guard to melt away.

“My dear, Seb. I could say the same about you.” Emmeline’s biting sentiment was cushioned beneath her honeyed inflection.

“Regrettably.” He muttered under his breath. Dora clung to him tighter, bright eyed and hopeful. Dora was a kind and caring woman that sported a sweet face and a button nose. She’d make some man very happy one day; just not Sebastian.

“You have me.” She cooed, fixing her own straw hat and deep chestnut braid that adorned her shoulder.

“Should we tell her?” Emma asked, receiving an icy stare.

“Why ruin the moment? It’s all harmless fun!”

“Tell me what?” Dora looked from Sebastian to Emmeline with peaked curiosity.

“Nothing to worry about, dear.” Emma soothed from across the way. Dora nodded contently before nuzzling into Seb’s undoubtedly damp vest.

“You’re restless, Emma.” Sebastian stated. It wasn’t a question; how could it be when it was so obvious?

“Maybe a little. But mostly just warm.” Her lightly kohl lined eyes fluttered shut. “I just wish it were socially acceptable to frolic in my chiton than be limited to the stage.”

“Those Greeks had a lot of great ideas. Flowing and light clothing, celebrating nearly every occasion by drinking and eating the most decadent desserts.”

“Making love like animals.” Emma added casually.

“Emmeline, how absolutely unladylike like of you!” Dora scolded with an air of immaturity.

“It’s not unladylike. It’s only honesty, really.”

 “I suppose.” Dora giggled. Reluctantly, Emma’s eyes opened, catching the telling blush spreading across Dora’s round cheeks. The blonde smirked. “You’re starting to sound like Josie.”

“Someone has to in her absence.” Emma grinned wryly. That was undoubtedly one the least awful things that could happen. Josie turned heads and lived life like she pleased. What was awful about that?

“It’s the desert heat going to your weary brain, darling.” Sebastian leaned forward. “Who knows. Maybe Tombstone will have something to quench your thirst.”

“Admittedly, I am parched.”

Emma turned to look out the carriage window once more. This time, a sprawling establishment grew out of the sandy nothingness, becoming bigger as they neared it. She assumed this mirage unfolding before her was the fabled Tombstone.


	2. Chapter 2

**Tombstone, September 1880**

The Oriental was always near barren in the hours before supper. Several men wandered in to escape the lingering summer heat and often found themselves playing several hands of poker with John Henry Holliday.

Doc preferred the more challenging opponents the evening offered, but he wasn’t opposed to being gifted the earnings of water brained underlings.

The game was in the shamed dentist’s favor, as it always nearly was. But it had hit a wall and Doc was growing restless. The sun was beginning to fall in its hourly descent as shown by the dancing shadows and the amber rays that filtered through the window. He hadn’t the rest of the afternoon to waste on these cucks. Trouble could be made at likes of The Birdcage, before he was to find himself back in this same spot.

Or a romp with one of the girls if Kate grew bored, which she often did.

“Are you gentlemen preparing to fold or do we still have a game on our hands?” Doc’s cloying southern charm alone was enough to anger the locals, let alone his obviously masked insults.

“Piss off, ya lunger.” One boy hissed, while his friend pored over his obviously lacking hand.

“I fold.” The boy sighed in defeat. His mouthy friend smiled wryly, subconsciously tipping his hat in a subtle tell. Doc smirked; what unruly, unskilled children they were. The young man slammed his hand on the table.

“Beat that one, old man.”

Holliday raised a brow; it was a decent hand, he could admit that. However, the smug youth across from him had failed to realize it was easily beat as well.

“Well, well. I suppose I’m playing with children after all.” Doc sighed, looking at his current hand in false defeat. “Do you think I have a chance, darling?” He quirked his gaze to Kate who stood at his side like she always.

She leaned over his shoulder to examine her lover’s relentlessly winning hand; though her real purpose was to put her low-cut dress to use so Doc could procure an Ace of Spades from his boot.

The two men gaped at Big Nosed Kate like she was an exotic animal.

“I think you stand a decent chance.” She breathed hotly into Doc’s ear, her tongue dipping into the shell. He drew in a sharp breath as he seamlessly mixed the spare card with the rest of his hand. Maybe he and Kate would have their own roll in the hay afterwards.

But that had to wait.

He revealed his hand gracefully, clicking his tongue gleefully.

“Ain’t that just a damn shame, gentlemen. I suggest you work on your technique and let your eyes roam just a little less.” He kicked his feet up on the table, crossing his arms behind his head as he sported a grin that’d make the Cheshire Cat jealous.

The meeker of the two men hung his head and made to leave the saloon. But the other turned tomato red, before obviously reaching for a blade or blunt weapon.

The metallic clang of a bullet stopped him. Kate with her feline proclivities had retrieved the pistol she kept in a holster on her garter and shot straight through the middle of the trouble maker’s hat.

“Try anything else and I’ll bury the next one in your brain.” She threatened huskily.

The boy nodded quickly, before stumbling with his friend out onto Allen Street fast enough to make the shutter doors rattle on their hinges.

Kate slunk around the table, pushing the winnings into her carpet bag. Doc watched her intently, a familiar heat rising deep inside him.

The woman must had sensed his thoughts as she gave him a lusty look, eyes dark and daring. In a languid movement, John Henry Holliday was on his feet and pulling Kate flush against him, kissing her deeply.

“I do declare, you will be the death of me.” His breathing shallow after the heated exchange.

“Are you quite sure about that?” Kate whispered against his trembling lips, slowly dragging a finger down the clammy and deathly white skin of his jaw.

He scoffed, refusing to give her the satisfaction of mentioning his own impending death. Instead, he kissed her again. His tongue dipped into the sweet cavern of her mouth, intending to give her tongue other activities than to agitate him.

Doc fixed his hat before offering an arm to his companion. The two left the now empty Oriental in rather high spirits.

On the sprawling saloon porch sat Virgil Earp, leisurely keeping an eye on the town from his wicker rocking chair. Morgan, who stood beside him, tipped his hat in Doc’s direction when he saw his sickly friend.

“Afternoon treating you lawmen well?” Doc, offered, pulling a giggling Kate closer to him. Morgan offered a pleading smile; Virgil was less amused.

The eldest Earp turned to the gambler, face as serious as always.

“I haven’t had to cease any gunfire yet, if that’s what you mean.” He stroked his bushy mustache thoughtfully. “Course that could change pretty quickly if you keep cheating the locals.”

“Careful, Virgil.” Kate warned in her silky timbre, “You know how erratic he’ll behave with those insinuations.”

“Not my fault no one around here can play a simple hand of poker decently.” Doc playfully added; though he cared little where the conversation was headed, and Virgil’s grumble suggested he felt the same. “Have either of you heard when that rapscallion brother of yours is due to arrive?”

“He was staying behind and leaving with the ladies. Had some business to wrap up, he said.”

“We headed out a month before them to get everything settled here so the move would be easier.” Morgan added brightly. “Expecting them any day now.”

“How about that, Kate? You’ll have the Earp women to keep you company soon.”

Kate bristled against him.

“How lovely. I must be going back to our room at Fly’s to freshen up and count our honest earnings.” She kissed Doc chastely on the lips. “If you’ll excuse me gentlemen.”

She wasted no time and was half way down the street in mere seconds.

“Take care of yourself, Kate.” Virgil called after her, brows knit. She turned back to nod curtly before she disappeared around a corner. It wasn’t as if the Earp’s were any Christ figures, coming to the boomtown in the hopes of finding some riches themselves. But Virgil had been suspicious of Kate from the beginning, and was less than thrilled she had decided to tag along with the doomed gambler to Arizona.

The tumultuous relationship the two shared also raised many concerns. Like if their constant heated arguments had a toll on Dr. Holliday’s deteriorating health.

“One of these days, a man who lost to you is gonna shoot you down and Behan will look the other way. There won’t be shit I can do about it, Doc.” Virgil lectured as John slowly sidled up beside the rocker.

“Piss on Johnny Behan.”

“Him and those damn cowboys practically run this town.” Virgil slowly removed his hat, sitting the woolen article on his lap. His graying hair was damp with sweat. “Damn heat’ll be the death of us all.”

“Dry as a bone, too.” Morgan added. “Be nice if it rained like the old fogies around here keep saying it will.”

“I prefer the desert weather myself. Keeps me above the snakes, a little bit longer at least.” Doc coughed lightly, the sound muffled in his chest. However, it had been enough to empty him of a little more blood as the metallic fluid lightly coated his tongue.

Why couldn’t he had been blessed with a fast acting and painless disease?

The three men stood in silence, which was preferable to the ceaseless arguments Virgil was likely to volley in Doc’s direction. He enjoyed his friendship with Earp brothers despite the curmudgeon Tombstone was turning Virgil into.

Slipping a quick hand into his jacket, Doc elegantly retrieved his cigarette case. Lighting the match and taking small puffs turned his rotten lungs to kindling as the urge to cough violently was stronger than ever. Any day could be his last on this god-forsaken planet, and the man saw no reason to end his vices now.

 The dry still air rumbled slightly as a caravan of elaborate stages fled down the main street, stopping in front of the Grand Hotel that lay situated diagonally across from the Oriental.

Painted across the carriage doors in a delicate hand was “Markham’s Traveling Theatre, San Francisco – California”. It had taken very little time for a crowd to form out of curiosity. Johnny Behan headed the welcoming committee, unsurprisingly.

“Playing at the Schieffelin, no doubt.” Virgil stated as the three stared from afar. They had put a great distance between themselves and the rest of the growing community. And that chasm was bound to grow greater when Wyatt arrived and joined their posse.

The inhabitants of the first stage exited quite efficiently as hotel servants dashed around the busy street, carrying trunks and bags into their temporary lodging. The first coach was pulled away as the horses clattered toward the corral on the edge of town.

Behan was making nice with who was no doubt the troupe’s leading lady. She was a vision wrapped in fabrics of pinks and gold, nicely complimenting her fair skin. Her expanse of flaxen curls sparkled in the setting sun, even when pulled back along the nape of her neck.

“What a beauty.” Morgan sighed.

“I’ll say,” Virgil chuckled darkly. “Maybe it’s a blessing that the ladies have yet to arrive. I don’t know about Louisa, but Allie’d have my balls in a sling if she caught me gawkin’.”

“How very tasteful, Virgil.” Doc smirked, catching the eldest brother’s glance of disdain out of the corner of his eye. The gambler ignored him, dutifully sucking on what remained of his cigarette.

“I’m sure you’d be singin’ a different tune if Miss Kate was still in our company.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, I’m afraid.” Doc coughed as a particularly harsh plume of smoke filled his lungs. He gathered his hanky and dabbed his lips for any blood. “She and I aren’t like the rest of you; Mary Katherine Elder belongs not to John Henry Holliday, nor vice versa. She may warm the bed of other men if she chooses. And some nights, I prefer it that way.”

“Such a poetic life the two of you lead.” Virgil grinned at Doc, turning to look at him. Genuine smiles from Virgil Earp were a rarity, but Doc accepted it gladly.

“And that’s how I prefer” The sickly gambler repeated, winking at his friend. Virgil snorted in amusement.

“She looks like Persephone on a spring morning.” Morgan said suddenly, his attempt to change the subject less than subtle. Behan finally escorted his poor guest through the front of the Grand. Doc had no idea what he found so interesting about her, but he was determined to become acquainted with the mysteriously captivating woman.

“Then I shall deign to be a suitable Hades.”

**Author's Note:**

> I was watching Tombstone and had an idea. That movie is severely underrated and Val Kilmer's performance is fantastic.


End file.
